Something about the ‘unspoken’

As we wrap up this class, I had a few more things that I wanted to add to our ongoing conversation. Going back a little ways to Terry Tempest Williams, I just wanted to touch on something that we started to get to in our class discussion, but then we ended up going in circles a bit on other topics. To be perfectly honest, I spent the first few pages of an An Unspoken Hunger deflecting. It was so emotional after everything we’d read, so personal, that I think I didn’t know how to respond, so I responded how I do to most arguments made from places of emotion—I gave it less weight. After having more time with it though, and watching us skirt around some of the issues in class, and then come barreling back with Caleb’s post about the experience, I want to amend my ever evolving thoughts on this more traditional ‘nature’ writing.

I’m going to ask a question which is actually rather difficult for me to ask, if only because I’ve been taught that these kind of questions don’t belong in an academic, intellectual space. (Still, I think we’ve spent the semester working to break down those ‘rules’ of the classroom.) Basically, where does the spiritual belong as we interact with the world? For me it’s always muddied the waters. Faith, spirituality—they’re so intangible, so subjective, it’s hard to base anything off of them. But what Williams advocates is this personal, spiritual connection to land and place—and while some of her own connections to places resonated with me and others did not, I think that I’m starting to latch onto this idea of something ‘unspoken.’ Maybe I roll my eyes at Williams (or other nature writers, for that matter) writing about their experiences not because I don’t believe in this connection, tangible or intangible, but because I find trying to put such a nuanced, personalized, inexpressible connection into words just clunky and awkward. Maybe we need to embrace the ‘unspoken,’ the intuitive, the wordless. We (although I’m mostly drawing from my own experience) prioritize being able to represent an experience, whether in a novel or a scientific report. Maybe we’re just social creatures and are unable to resist the urge to share. But what if we didn’t have to? I don’t quite think Williams was suggesting that with the term ‘unspoken’ that we should keep this ‘hunger’ to ourselves, rather I think she sees this systemic problem as something that should be discussed and addressed more. But for me, the term was indicative of a connection—maybe even a spirituality—that isn’t readily described with language. And maybe we waste time trying to describe it, instead perhaps we should try modelling it? Don't deny connections to land or place, and make it okay if someone can't readily explain the meaning or reasoning behind their own connections. I don't know; Williams is an excellent writer, but language itself just seems clunky here in expressing the sublties of an unspoken connection.

I’m not going to model some epiphany about this, because I haven’t really had one, but I just wanted to get out these questions that are roaming around my brain, as I still try to sort out the helpfulness of this very personal approach that Williams takes to the land.